


Friday Night Afterparty

by romanticalgirl



Series: Trope Bingo [1]
Category: Bandom, The Academy Is...
Genre: Handcuffs, Hate Sex, M/M, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No really. They hate each other. Written for my trope-bingo card "bound together/handcuffed". Many thanks to my stuffed monkeys for helping me figure out twisting around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday Night Afterparty

  
“I fucking hate you.”

“It’s mutual.” Tom jerks his arm which jerks Mike’s arm, which causes Mike to jerk back, so Tom ends up exactly where he started. Which is handcuffed, back to back, to Mike Carden in the back room of a crappy club in Pittsburgh.

“I told you to do the damn load out.”

“I told you to quit following Bill around like a lovesick puppy dog and help me.”

“I told you to fuck yourself. I don’t follow Bill around like anything, because Bill is a fucking diva.” Carden tries to pull away, but all it does is make the back of Tom’s head slam into the back of his. “Fuck.”

“Stop doing that.”

“Besides, if anyone is fawning all over Bill, it’s you with your fucking puppy dog eyes and ‘oh Bill, have I played you this new thing I made up’.” Carden tries to jerk his arm and ends up getting elbowed in the side by Tom. “It’s disgusting.”

“Oh, and you think your macho posturing isn’t?” Tom turns his hand and grabs Mike’s wrist. “Hold still.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hold still or I’ll break your fucking wrist and you won’t be playing anything for a long time.”

Mike turns his head and glares at Tom, but he holds his arm still as Tom turns it slightly and lifts, easing out from under Mike’s arm. “How does this help?”

“God, shut _up_.” His shoulder aches from the over-extension. “Just do what I did.” He jerks one arm as Mike moves. “The other way, idiot.”

“Quit calling me names or I’ll rip your arms off.”

“Mine and yours. Just...no. Move...god, can you not follow simple fucking instructions? It’s a wonder the guy didn’t just shoot us when he found us in here.”

“I didn’t ask to still be in the club that was getting robbed!” Mike twists under their cuffed arms and ends up face to face with Tom. They’re on their knees and now Tom’s wrists hurt as much as his shoulders. “Now what?”

“I don’t know. I got us this far. You do something.” Tom snaps. “Why the fuck does Bill put up with you if you’re like this? Now what? Help me? Can’t you fucking do anything on your own?”

Mike jerks hard on the cuffs and Tom falls forward, unable to stop himself. Mike’s chest meets his and Tom can feel the hot breath on his mouth in the instant before they’re kissing, Mike’s tongue pushing past his lips.

Tom groans and sucks hard at Mike’s tongue, punishing. Mike fists his hand in Tom’s jeans and pulls him closer, breaking off the kiss for a moment before moving in again, biting at Tom’s lips before finding his mouth again. It’s hot and messy and noisy, both of them breathing roughly when they break apart, inhaling copper-scented breaths as they kiss.

Tom curves his hand over Mike’s hip, sliding it around to his ass. Mike grunts low as it bends his arm backwards, but Tom inches forward and slides his knee between both of Mike’s. Mike’s whole body shudders and then he thrusts forward, grinding down against Tom’s thigh.

“Fuck,” Tom breathes against Mike’s mouth, trying to pull him closer. Mike digs his fingers into Tom’s hip to stop him, and Tom feels the twinge in his own wrist as a result and stops, but he shifts his knees so that he can get more friction, more of Mike against him. Mike thrusts back, rutting against him until all Tom can feel is pressure and the rasped slide of denim. His cock aches and his mouth feels bruised and sore as Mike pushes him down onto the floor and moves over him.

It’s perfect and Tom gasps in a mixture of relief and pain when Mike starts moving, holding Tom’s hands above his head as Mike braces himself over him. Cotton and denim and weight set fire to the heat curling in Tom’s cock and he arches up into Mike’s downward thrusts.

He curves a leg over the back of Mike’s calf and holds him there, shuddering as his orgasm hits him like a punch in the stomach. Mike groans and kisses him again, and this time Tom tastes blood as Mike’s teeth catch his lip. His hips jerk hard and it makes the mess in Tom’s pants spread, sticky and wet. “F-fuck.”

“Mike? Tom?” William’s voice echoes down the hall, panic sharp in his tone. “Are you guys here? Tom? Mike?”

“Fuck,”Mike groans and comes, his arms tense on either side of Tom’s head. His hair falls in Tom’s face when he drops his head forward, breathing roughly. He can’t roll away, and Tom knows exactly what Bill’s going to see when he walks in the door. What he’s going to think. “Fuck. I fucking hate you.”

Tom exhales and shoves Mike off of him, though he doesn’t go far. At least they’re separated when two cops come in the back room, Bill trying to see over their heads. “It’s mutual.”  



End file.
